Growing Up
by Grasspaw
Summary: "Something was different. Not really wrong, just... different. Sometime in the past month something had shifted, and things weren't like they used to be." Mohinder doesn't understand why Molly is acting so strangely...


**Because I always did kind of think that Mohinder would be awkward once Molly started developing... Random bit of fluffy friendship father daughter-ness. With a guest appearance by Emma and Peter! I own nothing.**

Something was different. Not really _wrong, _just... different. Sometime in the past month something had shifted, and things weren't like they used to be with them. He couldn't tell exactly what it was, but he knew that it wasn't like it was supposed to be.

For one thing, Molly was avoiding him. If he happened to walk into a room where she was, she would immediately get up and leave, whether or not he had even noticed her presence. Though, of course, he usually had... She was the only other person in the apartment with him most days; it was hard not to know where she was at all times. Besides, she was only eleven; he had just gotten her back from his mother a few months ago, and he wanted to make sure she was fine after the events of the past few years.

She didn't seem to appreciate it. Even when they were eating, she would bolt down her food and all but flee back to her room, leaving him to wonder what on earth was going on in her head. She'd been ecstatic to see him when he went straight to Madras to get her. His mother had left him a few cryptic messages about the fact that Molly was growing up - as though he hadn't noticed; she was at least three inches taller than when he'd left her there - then laughed, kissed his forehead, and said he was blessed to have the girl and she was lucky to have such a wonderful father.

Clearly Molly didn't agree, or she wouldn't seem so adamant to deny his existence.

Another strange thing he noticed was that she no longer seemed to want to go outside much. If her friends invited her over to their houses she seemed okay, but anything that required her to go out in public - movies, mall, pool, _anything _- she shrank back and stayed at home. This self-imposed imprisonment made her surly and disgruntled, and left Mohinder feeling completely baffled. If she hated being inside with him so much, why didn't she just go play with her friends?

Finally, some kind soul decided to tell him what on earth was going on, though he wouldn't have expected that particular person to do it. All the same it was lucky they did, because he might not have picked up on for... well, years, really.

He had taken Molly over to see Peter and Emma, mostly because she adored their young son so much, and also because Peter had mentioned he'd like super strength. And as long as he was there he might as well bring Molly, and it wasn't really very polite to have guests over and not serve them food - Emma's words, not Peter's - so before Mohinder knew it he had been at the Petrelli household for two and a half hours, completely stuffed to overflowing with what the couple insisted was Emma's cooking, though judging by the way Peter smirked and Emma giggled every time he took another bite he suspected Peter had made lunch.

Molly was sitting in the living room, playing peek-a-boo with Nate, and Emma was watching her with that strange look on her face she had had ever since the eleven-year-old walked in the door. Finally, certain that Molly was too wrapped up in the baby to pay attention to what the adults were saying, she turned to Mohinder and asked abruptly, "Does Molly have a bra?"

He choked on his lemonade, and coughed for a second before answering with a supremely eloquent, "Wha...?" Emma turned to Peter, looking for a translator - the traitor looked like he was holding down a laugh - and he made a quick movement with his hands, drawing his right finger across his left palm. Mohinder assumed he was telling her what he had said (mumbled, really) and stared at Emma with wide eyes, glancing back at Molly, then back at Emma.

"Does she have a bra?" Emma repeated. "She needs one."

"She's eleven!" Mohinder hissed. "She doesn't need... Does she?" Peter snickered. Mohinder scowled at him, which only served to amuse him more.

"I was going to mention it if Emma didn't," he said with a shrug.

"She is _far _too young for a... Isn't she?" he asked doubtfully, because now that he thought about, Molly had seemed a bit... oddly shaped, lately, but he hadn't paid to much attention to it. Peter bit his lip to keep from laughing, which would surely arouse Molly's suspicion.

"No," Emma said complacently. "I needed one when I was a little older than her, although by the looks of it she's needed one for a while." Mohinder could feel heat rising up his neck and ears, and was suddenly grateful for his dark skin; the flush would barely show.

"But... But..." he stammered, looking back and forth between Emma and Peter, occasionally glancing at Molly. Peter was practically convulsed with his silent laughter, and Emma's lips were twitching, though she had more self-control than Peter. "I can't just go _buy _her a bra," he mumbled. Emma looked confused, turning to Peter. He signed something, adding to the Indian, "Speak more clearly; she reads lips." His voice was full of laughter, and Mohinder scowled.

"Of course you can," Emma said, taking a bite of her salad.

"But she has to... she has to try it on, doesn't she?" he asked unsurely. "I mean... Don't they, er, come in different sizes? Or something?" Peter laid his head down on the table, his shoulders shaking. Mohinder wondered suddenly why he had ever been friends with this man. He knew his embarrassment would show now, because no matter how dark his skin was, the red would most definitely be visible at this point. Molly looked over at them curiously, then shrugged and turned back to Nate, cooing.

"Of course," Emma said, and she laughed a little bit, too. Then frowned as she understood. Peter looked like he was going to cry he was trying so hard not to laugh. "I suppose you can't help her try it on, or show her how to get it on..."

"The only thing Mohinder knows about bras is how to take them off," Peter muttered, hiding his mouth so Emma couldn't see. Mohinder scowled, his cheeks positively flaming now.

"Watch it, Petrelli, or I just might throw you through the wall." Peter grinned cheekily.

Emma looked back and forth between them for a few seconds, appearing bemused, before she finally shrugged and said, "I'm free Saturday afternoon. I'll take you two-"

"Why do I have to go?" Mohinder interjected. "Can't you just show her and we can pretend it never happened?"

"I won't always be around," Emma replied, taking another bite of her salad and raising her eyebrows. "You're going to have to see what you need to look for, and find what size she is..." Mohinder just stared at her, mouth agape, and Peter laid his head back of the table.

Later, walking away from the Petrelli house, he told Molly as casually as he could, "We're going shopping on Saturday."

"What for?" she asked curiously, seeming anxious. No wonder; shopping meant the mall, and the mall meant people... Or maybe they would just go to Wal-mart, he didn't know.

"Oh, nothing much... Um... Yeah. Emma's coming."

"Cool. I like Emma. Can I ride up front?"

"You're a little-" The word 'young' was right on the tip of his tongue, but on second thought... "Sure, go ahead."

"Yay!" she squealed, hopping in the car and buckling in, bouncing up and down slightly in her excitement.

Mohinder looked at Molly fondly, thinking that maybe she wasn't quite so grown up after all.


End file.
